


Skyhold Spaces

by Delouest



Series: The Lives of the Companions - Inquisition Headcanons [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, Shorts, Skyhold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delouest/pseuds/Delouest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they're not out adventuring, the Inquisitor's companions have carved out spaces in Skyhold. These are their stations, their homes and their hiding places. </p><p>Each chapter will be a different class or group.<br/>1: Warriors<br/>2: Rogues<br/>3. Mages<br/>4. Advisers<br/>5. Consultants</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warriors

**Author's Note:**

> Where you spend your time says a lot about you. I thought each character had the perfect station for who they were and wanted to explore this. I hope you enjoy!

**Warriors**

**Cassandra** would like onlookers to think she spends her time in the training yard to focus on keeping her skills sharp. She keeps her face stony and hard, attacking the training dummy mercilessly. But when no one is looking, she lowers her blade and smiles quietly at the dappled light that trickles through the canopy of leaves above her. She notices the glint of sun off the colorful stained glass windows of the tavern. When absolutely no one is around, she finds a tree stump and pulls out the latest installment of one of Varric’s books, blushing to herself at the romantic bits.

**The Iron Bull** sits with his legs spread out, leaning back: the absolute picture of casual. But from his vantage he can see everything, even with the bad eye. He takes in the room, the staircase, the door. Makes sure nothing is slipped into anyone’s drink. Notes concealed weapons. Nothing will happen on his watch. He’s been trained to multitask; He can keep an eye on the room and the backside of the redheaded barmaid. Of course, the proximity to the ale stocks doesn’t hurt either.

**Blackwall** separates himself in the stables. He tells himself he isn’t hiding, but he isn’t sure if it’s true. His sleeping roll is next to the fire pit and his workbench is within reach. He’s used to life on the road, tells himself he doesn’t need anything fancy. Beds are too soft, and he’s too undeserving. He prefers isolation and the company of horses. They don’t look at him with judging eyes and sideways glances. They don’t whisper harsh asides that remind him of his past mistakes. When he’s alone in the stables, it’s as if Thom Rainier doesn’t exist. He’s just Blackwall, waiting on orders, ready to pack up his few possessions and fight the good fight.

 


	2. Rogues

**Rogues**

**Sera** can’t sleep without the din of people below her getting progressively louder and drunker as the nights draw out. These are her people: The common folk who gather together in the tavern at the end of a hard day to drink, shout, get riled up and unwind. She piles trophies and trinkets and pretty things in trunks, finding comfort in their solidness. She can hold them, touch them, feel something concrete, and that helps chase away the bad thoughts, the demons, the things she can’t name or punch in the nose.

 **Varric** holds court in the Great Hall of Skyhold, though his does not involve the imposing throne and backlit wall of colorful windows. He stands on the far end in front of a crackling fireplace, arms crossed and waiting for an audience. He starts to tell a story to someone, but soon a crowd has gathered and he has to stand on a chair to be seen and heard over the listeners that press in intently. He verbally protests signing copies of his books while snatching them away, pen already scribbling over the pages. In quieter hours, he hunches over the big wooden desk, trying to find the right words to write, and the rest of the hall falls away.

 **Cole** doesn’t need to hide to stay out of sight; that’s not why he climbs the rafters. Thoughts are loud. They press in on him. Up out of the way, he can pull apart the voices and filter through them. He stands in the shadows, fading into the wall behind him until he picks up on the one that needs him most. Sometimes a mouse runs over his scuffed boot and he smiles at the creature. Small. Skittering. Harmless, but hopeful for a simple scrap of cheese. Such big hopes in something so tiny. Unassuming spaces. Unassuming boy. And then he’s gone, and there’s a wedge of cheese and a wide-eyed mouse with a watering mouth where he stood just moments before.


	3. Mages

**Mages**

**Dorian ** builds up his nook out of stacked books at the foot of his high-backed armchair. Though some accuse him of isolating himself, he’s gone to great lengths to position himself where anyone might run into him on their way to do research. He always has a recommendation primed and ready for anyone who asks (and more often for those who don’t). Occasionally he yells down to Solas, bickering about some obscure historical reference. Depending on the mages’ moods (and how much wine Dorian has had), the shouted responses from above and below are either spirited debates or slews of Tevene and Elven profanity. The others in the library roll their eyes and try to stay out of it (books sometimes go flying).

**Solas ** surrounds himself with his paintings, slowly transforming the room around him into a mural of the Inquisition’s influence. Wolves howl in two dimensions from every angle, unblinking eyes staring at anyone brave enough to disturb him. During his visits to the Fade, he sets up wards. The energy rolls off them, sending ripples of protective magics through Skyhold that every mage feels in their limbs like a tingle of their foot falling asleep.

**Vivienne ** knows there is power to be derived from location. Plush couches in Orlesian fashion and shelves of books “borrowed” from the library nearby surround her. Her thin but imposing frame is silhouetted by the warm light that streams in from the balcony, making any visitor squint upon looking at her. She never has to speak up in order to intimidate, because the large chamber catches her cool voice and amplifies it so even the people milling about on the floor below can hear her stately words. When her schedule allows her a moment of solitude, she leans on the edge of the balcony and looks to the horizon, thinking about Duke Bastien and the state of the mages’ Circle, frustratedly wondering if there is more she could be doing. 


	4. Advisers

**Advisors**

**Leliana** refuses to wait for messengers to bring her the news. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them (though she doesn’t, really. What good spymaster would?), but she knows she needs to be there, ready for any bit of information her ravens might bring. At night she sits in the near-silent rookery, praying at her shrine and listening for the sounds of wind rustling feathers that will carry news of the troops and the Inquisition’s enemies. When no one is looking, she sneaks scraps of food to the ravens, spoiling them rotten.

**Cullen** ’s office is neat and inviting, dim, but lit with the warm glow of candlelight. His bedroom above is falling apart, the open sky clearly visible from the hole in the roof. It’s night and day. During the waking hours he projects power and control in front of the troops. At night he cries out in his sleep and wakes gasping for breath and aching for the lyrium he denies himself. He keeps himself separate in his out-of-the-way office, not sure if he’s protecting himself or them. His distance allows him some semblance of control, control he feels is fast slipping out of his grasp. But there’s a job to do. An army to lead. He knows he has to be strong for everyone who’s looking to the Inquisition to stitch up the hole in the sky and put Thedas back together.

**Josephine** knows a thing or two about appearances and efficiency. As the ambassador and chief diplomat of the Inquisition, she cleverly placed her desk immediately outside of the war room. Cullen cannot so much as walk past to take a peek at the war table without Josephine scurrying after him. Her advice spills out of her mouth almost as fast as the ink flowing from her fountain pen, which seems to take notes independently of the rest of her. Leliana rolls her eyes at her friend and occasionally drops in a piece of ridiculous false information to see how much Josie will write down before stopping with an annoyed huff and retaliating by tugging on the spymaster’s hood.


	5. Consultants

**Consultants**

**Morrigan** stands in the garden, arms folded as she surveys the courtyard. She enjoys the quiet and the relative solitude, but it’s not like when she secluded herself when she was traveling with the Warden. She is not hiding at the edges of camp. People come and go. Gardeners tend to the herbs. Kieran will soon grow fat on the sweets his many admirers sneak to him; _tis as though no one at Skyhold has seen a child before._ She has never quite had a home of her own, and Skyhold is certainly not that. But watching her son, Morrigan feels a calm certainty that the boy she raised is more home than any place she might travel to.

 **Dagna** spends days in the undercroft researching her latest project without coming up for air. Though Harritt grumbles at her, he brings her plates of food, nudging them onto the table next to her in the hopes that she will eat something. Her enthusiasm is catching, if… unsettling. the residents of Skyhold have gotten used to the occasional rumbles that shake the ground when one of her experiments goes awry; Dorian had the bookshelves nailed down, and Solas covers his head with parchment (he has resigned himself to the unfortunate reaction of the ravens above him). When she finishes a project, Dagna takes the briefest of pauses to dangle her feet in the splash of the waterfall, still reveling at the open sky.

 **Krem** spends his time at the tavern. He can’t seem to decide if he should sit or stand. He has not yet figured out what to do with himself when he isn’t on a job. He sees Bull behind him relaxing, but Krem knows better. The boss is always working, always surveying the room. So Krem wavers between standing at attention and awkwardly sitting down, tense and on edge. Every so often a particular serving girl crosses his path, and his cheeks flush red. It’s in those little moments that he stops thinking about work. The low rumble of Bull chuckling reminds Krem that he is not alone, and he takes a swig from the bottle of wine he keeps nearby, glaring at the boss.

 **Scout Lace Harding** does not find herself at Skyhold often. She’s far too busy leading the band of (questionably sane) explorers in places that might hold interest for the Inquisition. When she comes back to report in, very little of her time is spent filling in the advisers (she already sends detailed reports with Leliana’s ravens). As soon as her duties are done, she seeks out Varric; he always has the best gossip. Maybe it won’t help the Inquisition, but she’s a woman of details. It would be _wrong_ not to hear all the gossip. The Inquisitor’s love life is information relevant to the cause, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I know "Consultants" is a weak title, but I couldn't think of what to call this last group. If you have any better ideas, let me know below.] 
> 
> And I think that's it for a while! I can see myself finding more and more people to add to this, but I think I am going to stop for now unless I get truly inspired. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed these! Let me know what you think ^_^


End file.
